


Through a Mirror Darkly

by cjwritesfanficnow



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjwritesfanficnow/pseuds/cjwritesfanficnow
Summary: Kallus was alive and well, and he’d shown himself to be a defector.And he fought with a bo-rifle.That made him Zeb’s responsibility specifically—that made this personal in a way none of his other hunts had been.Zeb knew the Empire he served. Zeb knew the tactics he had been taught to employ as an ISB Agent. He knew that there would be no mercy given to Lasan the second time around. If Kallus was allowed to remain at large, using that weapon against the Empire, then it could nullify the entire reason Zeb had first accepted an Imperial commission: protecting his people.That made Kallus his problem, personally. And Zeb knew he might not be quite as smart as some of the other ISB Agents, and he definitely wasn’t a match for Thrawn, but he was passionate in a way that many others weren’t. When something mattered to him, Zeb would see it through to the end.And to protect Lasan, and all of his people, Zeb was determined to be the end of these rebels.---An AU where Zeb became an Imperial after the Siege of Lasan, and Kallus became a rebel.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	Through a Mirror Darkly

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo... Um... I know I should really be posting more on my other stories, but I finally watched Rebels while I was sick with COVID, and this idea wouldn't leave me alone. I promise I'm still working on the other fics, just slowly! For now, um, enjoy, I guess?

Garazeb Orrelios was once  _ proud  _ to hold the rank of Captain. He’d been young for his position, surpassing even his older siblings in the Honor Guard’s ranks until he was one of five Captains in charge of guarding the Royal Family and all Lasats.

But that was  _ before. _

“Captain Orrelios, sir?”

“Go ahead,” he answered without turning to look at the lieutenant.

“Your presence has been requested aboard the  _ Chimera,  _ sir.”

“When?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Zeb waited until he heard the man turn on his heel and leave the observation deck, and then he allowed himself one small moment of weakness: he sighed and let his shoulders slump, but  _ only  _ for a moment. He took a deep breath, straightened himself up, squared his shoulders, and made his way to the shuttle with his head held high.

* * *

Zeb was directed to Rear Admiral Thrawn’s office, and while he refused to allow himself to dwell on his nerves (was he under suspicion now, because of what had happened with Gron? Was he being transferred, demoted, or remanded to custody?), he did allow himself to look around the Admiral’s office with clear interest. He’d known that the man had a reputation for enjoying and collecting art and artefacts from the various worlds he visited in the course of his duties, but this was… something else. Across all the walls were small insets with stands, displaying the various items he’d collected and found worthy of displaying. Zeb recognized a few of them, including a Wookie horn from Kashyyyk and a gem from the Telluride mines.

He turned his focus to the meeting at hand as Thrawn turned around to face him, standing at ease behind his desk. Zeb straightened and snapped off a salute, Thrawn nodded back.

“At ease, Captain. Please, sit,” he said. Zeb nodded his thanks as he relaxed slightly, sitting across the desk from him. He couldn’t quite help the way that his fur ruffled at the man’s voice, the silky, deep, deadly tones the Chiss spoke with. Still, Thrawn did not seem to notice, or at least didn’t comment on it if he did. “I wished to speak with you. We do not know each other well, and I would like to remedy that.”

Zeb blinked at him, and then nodded. “Of course, sir. What would you like to know?”

Thrawn hummed and folded his hands together, resting them on the desktop. “Let us start at the beginning. You were pressed into the Empire’s service, were you not?”

“No, sir,” Zeb said, perhaps a bit more stiffly than he meant to.

“Your records indicate that you joined the Imperial Navy ten days after the Siege of Lasan ended,” Thrawn said. “Is that not correct?”

“It is,” Zeb confirmed.

“Please explain, Captain.”

Zeb took a deep breath; this line of questioning had become familiar to him, each new officer he was placed under wanting to ensure his loyalty. “After the Royal Family surrendered and pledged their loyalty to the Emperor, the Honor Guard was offered a choice. I wasn’t forced into my commission.”

Thrawn hummed. “Were you not? I am well aware of what the other option available to you was.”

Zeb very carefully didn’t flinch at that, instead forcing himself to meet Thrawn’s gaze (even though those red eyes were seriously  _ creepy _ ). “And more than a few chose it. The Honor Guard were warriors, sir. Many of them decided that they would rather die fighting on Lasan than live and serve the Empire.”

“Do you understand their choice? Those who would rather die than join the Empire’s ranks?” Thrawn asked, sounding genuinely curious. Zeb frowned thoughtfully, taking a moment to think that over before answering. Thrawn must have mistaken his thoughtfulness for hesitation, because he waved a hand. “Please, Captain. You have my permission to speak freely.”

Zeb nodded. “Thank you, sir. Yes, to an extent I can understand why they would have made that choice. Before the Empire came to Lasan—”  _ Before Lasan was  _ **_invaded_ ** _ and half of its population slaughtered with now-illegal weapons,  _ Zeb carefully didn’t say. “—we were isolationists. Those who chose to fight, and die, were protecting that ideal. An independent Lasan.”

“And why did you make the choice to serve the Empire? I do not think it is simply because you wanted to live,” Thrawn hummed. Zeb shook his head slowly.

“No, sir. If I’d thought it was the right thing to do, I wouldn’t have had a problem dying for my people. There are… a few reasons,” he answered. Thrawn nodded in invitation. “Ours is a warrior culture. We understand and respect strength—not too different from the Mandalorians, really. The Empire is a superior force, and our leaders, the Royal Family, understood that. And the Empire  _ could  _ have wiped us all out. Instead, they found a solution that brought us into the fold. And being here, I’ve… started to see the importance of protecting the galaxy, and not just Lasan.”

Thrawn hummed, and then smiled—it was strange, to see a genuinely  _ pleased  _ expression on his face. “I am pleased to hear that, Captain. This conversation was a test, and I am pleased to inform you that you have passed.”

Zeb tilted his head, his ears flicking slightly before settling. “A test, sir?”

“I have convinced both our Emperor and Colonel Yularen of the importance of allowing more non-human officers to enter the Imperial Security Bureau. Tomorrow, you will be sent to Coruscant for training. Congratulations,  _ Agent  _ Orrelios.”

Zeb managed a smile, even as his stomach sank. He knew what the ISB did, what their function was. He had told the truth, during this conversation—“interview,” apparently—and he could see the benefits of his current position. As a Captain in the Imperial Navy, he trained new recruits, protected civilians and Imperial shipments, and generally made sure that the Imperial machine under his purview ran well. He kept order, safety, and security in the regions he was assigned to, and… This wasn’t the life he’d wanted. It wasn’t what he’d ever envisioned for himself, but it was his lot, and he had made his peace with it.

But the ISB… They sought out dissidents, rebels, and insurgents, even— _ especially _ —from within the Empire’s own ranks. And their definitions of those categories were terribly vague, often including simple civilians who didn’t want to sell their land to the Empire so they could complete their newest construction projects—

“I understand that you may have reservations,” Thrawn said, neatly interrupting his train of thought. Zeb frowned at him, and Thrawn waved a hand dismissively. “You must see the bigger picture. You will be one of the first non-humans in the ISB. Think of the precedent that this will set for those who might follow your path.”

That… was a good point. And, Zeb reminded himself, he knew the Empire well enough to realize that this wasn’t a promotion that he would be  _ allowed  _ to decline.

Nodding slowly, Zeb said, “Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Thrawn’s eyes glittered with… something, some nebulous emotion somewhere between genuine happiness and sadistic satisfaction. “I’m sure you will. That will be all, Agent Orrelios.”

* * *

_ Six years later _

* * *

The rebels on Lothal weren’t the sort that Zeb enjoyed hunting, though the fact that there  _ were  _ rebels that Zeb  _ liked  _ putting down made him sick to his stomach, some days—but they deserved it, those cells. They always sent Zeb after the worst of them, the cruelest, the most brutal, the least discriminating. The ones that killed civilians and low-level troopers who were only following simple orders and were usually uninvolved in the Empire’s less moral actions? Those rebels, Zeb was glad to put down—even when one of them had been another Lasat.  _ Especially  _ then. Onderon hadn’t been the success that Zeb had wanted and his superiors expected, but it had been a victory nonetheless. Zeb had killed the Lasat working with Gerrera, and many others beside, though he hadn’t gotten the ringleader himself. But they’d been soundly beaten and chased from the planet, and that had been enough for Colonel Yularen to promote him. ISB-047 had become ISB-021, after that.

The Lothal cell was nothing like Gerrera and his group, though. Zeb quickly and easily realized that from the reports he’d spent the last three days scouring recounting their activities. This group was  _ moral,  _ they were… honorable. They never killed anyone they didn’t absolutely have to, using stun blasts and concussion grenades when they could. And when they did act against the Empire, it always seemed to be in the interest of  _ helping  _ other people: they stole food from Imperial garrisons to hand out to the underfed refugees in the camp they called Tarkin Town, to the north of Capital City; the rebels stole weapons that they never used themselves, even when they were clearly better than what the footage showed them using, and could have given them an upper hand; they saved those looking for a way off Lothal, to escape from the Empire, usually for relatively petty crimes like dissention or failing to report other dissidents to the authorities.

So Zeb knew that he wouldn’t  _ enjoy  _ hunting down this particular group, but it had to be done. He truly did  _ believe  _ that, and the reason…

Zeb paused the video he’d been watching, frowning at the image displayed on his terminal. It was from a raid on a smaller supply depot three weeks before. As usual, there had been no casualties greater than a few bumps and bruises, and harsh headaches after waking up from the stun shots. And the rebels had stolen a mixed cargo, but nothing overtly dangerous—just a few crates of food that Zeb had already confirmed they’d taken to Tarkin Town and a couple of fuel canisters.

But none of that was what bothered him. He backed the video up and hit play, watching a human fighting stormtroopers with a  _ bo-rifle.  _ And wielding it  _ well. _

They’d already identified the man. It had been easy enough to match with facial recognition, since Imperial Archives had an image on file already—he’d been an officer: Captain Alexsandr Kallus. He’d gone missing after… after the Siege of Lasan, and he’d been assumed dead, just like all of the other Imperial forces who’d been unrecoverable, either hit by stray disruptor fire and blasted to bits, or blown up in the cascade failure that had destroyed the bulk of the disruptors.

Clearly, they’d thought wrong. Kallus was alive and well, and he’d shown himself to be a defector.

And he fought with a bo-rifle.

That made him Zeb’s responsibility specifically—that made this  _ personal  _ in a way none of his other hunts had been. Not since Onderon, and the  _ kow’ashmala  _ Lasat he’d put down.

The others were nothing to scoff at, either. It had taken significantly more time and effort to source most of their identities, though Sabine Wren had been the easiest. She was another defector, though she’d only been a cadet when she left the Academy. A senior cadet with a very bright and promising future, sure, but still just a cadet. But Zeb knew not to underestimate a Mandalorian. They’d pushed back hard against the Empire, in its early days, but they’d been weak and divided. In the end, it had taken one massacre, very similar to the one on Lasan, to bring them to heel. Zeb knew that they started their training young, and Wren could be a more formidable opponent than one might first assume because of her age.

Hera Syndulla’s identity had been somewhat more difficult to find, though not terribly. As the daughter of Cham Syndulla, former leader of Ryloth and current head of the rebellion there, the leap hadn’t been difficult to make. And it had taken some time, but Zeb had been able to confirm that she hadn’t been seen on Ryloth since this cell had been operating. She had her own lineage to contend with, and while she was a skilled pilot, it was really her military prowess that Zeb was concerned with. He thought it unlikely that she’d learned  _ nothing  _ of her father’s tactics and skills, especially since she’d picked up his anti-Imperial sentiments.

The final member of the crew, Kanan Jarrus, had been the hardest to pin down. He had few official records to his name, save for one arrest eight years prior for smuggling. He’d slipped his guards somehow and gone to ground, and hadn’t been caught since. Syndulla hadn’t been with him, when he’d been arrested, and it wasn’t clear when he’d joined up with the crew. Zeb hadn’t been able to find any other official datatrail on the man. It was clearly a false name, though a match for him hadn’t been found in the facial recognition database. It was like the man was a ghost—appropriate, Zeb thought with a small snort, given the name of that ship of theirs.

“ _ ISB-021, sir? _ ”

Zeb grabbed his commlink, not taking his eyes off of the video still playing before him. “Go ahead.”

“ _ We’ve received a report of another theft. _ ”

“Understood,” he answered, straightening in his seat. “Send the report to my commlink and ready a shuttle.”

“ _ Right away, sir. _ ”

Zeb paused the video again on the image of Kallus taking down the final trooper in the supply depot with the bo-rifle. He’d used it as a staff, but never held contact long enough to kill them, instead catching them between their armor plates again and again until they were shocked unconscious. It wasn’t just  _ moral  _ and  _ honorable,  _ it took considerable  _ skill  _ to do. Fighting with a bo-rifle to any effect while restraining himself from a killing blow, all while being shot at and getting away with the crates? Kallus was  _ good. _

And that was a problem.  _ Kallus  _ was a problem. The fact that this human defector was using a weapon against the Empire that was meant for a Lasat, and not just  _ any  _ Lasat, but an officer of the High Honor Guard? This could reflect poorly on the Lasat Guardsmen who  _ were  _ Imperials. This could link  _ Lasan  _ to the  _ rebellion  _ and shatter the fragile peace they’d achieved by agreeing to serve the Empire.

Zeb knew the Empire he served. Zeb knew the tactics  _ he  _ had been taught to employ as an ISB Agent. He knew that there would be no mercy given to Lasan the second time around. If Kallus was allowed to remain at large, using  _ that weapon  _ against the Empire, then it could nullify the entire  _ reason  _ Zeb had first accepted an Imperial commission: protecting his people.

That made Kallus  _ his  _ problem, personally. And Zeb knew he might not be quite as smart as some of the other ISB Agents, and he definitely wasn’t a match for Thrawn, but he was  _ passionate  _ in a way that many others weren’t. When something  _ mattered  _ to him, Zeb would see it through to the end.

And to protect Lasan, and all of his people, Zeb was determined to be the end of these rebels.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm totally making up Lasat language here, so let's just pretend that's some sort of swear word Zeb used. XD


End file.
